I saw clearly that war was upon us when I learned that my young men had been secretly buying ammunition.

It does not require many words to speak the truth.

I believe much trouble would be saved if we opened our hearts more.

I do not believe that the Great Spirit Chief gave one kind of men the right to tell another kind of men what they must do.

Our chiefs are killed. . . . The little children are freezing to death. . . . My people have no blankets, no food. . . . My heart is sick and sad. . . . I will fight no more forever.

The earth is the mother of all people, and all people should have equal rights upon it.

I have asked some of the great white chiefs where they get their authority to say to the Indian that he shall stay in one place, while he sees white men going where they please. They cannot tell me.

Good words do not last long unless they amount to something.

Treat all men alike. Give them the same law. Give them an even chance to live and grow.

Hear me, my chiefs! I am tired. My heart is sick and sad. From where the sun now stands, I will fight no more forever.

It makes my heart sick when I remember all the good words and the broken promises.

Rather than words comes the thought of high windows:The sun-comprehending glass, And beyond it, the deep blue air, that showsNothing, and is nowhere, and is endless.

Politics is a game played by the rich with the lives of the poor.

In a world of selfie-addiction smile usually is the brand name for an essential drug called pretense

Thrift is poetic because it is creative

SHIT, OR GET OFF THE POT

The greatest untapped reservoir of raw material in the history of our game is the black race.

I can usually get the right connection with the crowd and I don't have to be jumping off ladders.

When it comes time to protecting the homeland, the United States of America must be right 100 percent of the time. And the enemy, which desires to strike us again, only has to be right once.

But in the finished art of the song the use of words has no connection with the use of words in poetry.

I doubt God would want to touch America's tax code, since it is already located in the third rung of Hell.